Dirt Cheap
by Dancing Feather
Summary: Everything he ever did was for himself. Don't expect any less from him and he won't expect any more from you. :oneshot, 2nd of the MUD series: If you love your Pokémon fanfics choking on reality, this is for you.


It's not required to read Rotten to understand this story. However, if you do read this one it will spoil the other. Please feel free to correct any bad spelling/grammar/story telling that you come across. If I owned the rights to Pokémon, I probably wouldn't be here of all places.

* * *

**Dirt Cheap**

This cave had many names. Nameless and Unknown, but over the years it was now more known as Hanada Cave (to the natives), or Cerulean Cave (to the foreigners). Because of the sudden extra danger and muscle the creatures in this cave had compared to the rest of the territory surrounding it, representatives from the Indigo League are hired to keep unwary and incapable trainers from wandering in.

But caves always have more than one entry way.

"Roll, use your strength to push these boulders aside."

Using her two larger arms, the Graveler heaved the rock aside from the blocked entrance of the cave. She swung her smaller arms to punch the greater rocks down to size. Her trainer became silent, watching behind them for any signs of possible interference. He wasn't interested in trying to explain himself to an Indigo League Representative. If anything, it's their fault that the Viridian gym leader never seems to be around. The sound of rocks grinding together, Roll's grumble announced that the way was clear.

"Good job." He said, his tone just as straight as when he ordered her to preform the action. But to her, the fact that she heard the word 'good' meant she was praised. His sturdy tone, never wavering has always been the same since he had first captured her as a Geodude. She relaxed (or as much as rock could relax) as he recalled her back. Attaching her back to his belt, he pulled out another ball and tossed it inside the cave.

"Flash." He ordered as he walked into the entrance. The hovering purple starfish waited for it's trainer to catch up before the jewel in the middle of it's body began to glow, bathing everything in a red light. "Move ahead." He added, pointing forward.

Once he was deep enough in that he wouldn't have to worry about the authorities, he walked as he pleased. Not giving a second thought to the disruptive sounds his metal toothed hiking boots did to the rocky ground. He wasn't interested in meeting any shy Pokémon. If there was a species that caught his interest, he'd rather have one with guts. Willing to pick a fight despite not knowing the odds. Otherwise, he thought, to capture a Pokémon who was not interested in battle would only be a torturous relationship for both involved.

He didn't have time for that.

Today however, he was not looking for wild Pokémon. Searching the ground, he looks for other signs of trainers. Ones like he, who sneak into the cave hoping to find wonderful treasures. But unlike, were not prepared. He let a small smile escape him as he noticed the treads of sneakers and dinosaur like feet. Not that his eyeless Pokémon would notice such details.

He loved coming here for the free stuff.

Following the trail, he ducked and squeezed himself through the tunnels. The trainer he was trailing seemed to have a smaller build than he, as it took several Water Guns to make some narrow passageways passable. Which in itself was not troublesome for him, he had done it before. Just as long as it wasn't like the time he was trailing someone who was either a ten year old girl or a midget, he was fine. It was one of the few times he had apologized to his Pokémon. For all the hard work they did of moving earth and defeating aggressive Pokémon, no reward came of it. Wasted time was lost money to him.

"Jet, what is it?"

He had finally caught up with his Starmie, but instead of it continuing ahead, it hovered put. Looking around, he tried to see any possible threat. When none seem to come up in his vision, he began to reach for his Pokéballs. That was when something caught his nose. Something that immediately set this visit different from his others.

A putrid smell.

It was light, signifying that they were still quite far from the source. He narrowed his eyes all the same, as he noticed that the tracks seemed to be heading in that direction.

"Keep going, Jet." He sighed before taking his final fresh breath of air. Caves never smelled pleasant to begin with. Countless tunnels with hardly any air circulation kept that a fact. With nowhere to go, the air just sits and becomes cold and stale.

"Another water gun."

The stench was getting stronger. The trainer pulled the worn brown bandanna from his head and wrapped it around his nose and mouth. He had smelled rotting flesh before, but the amount coming from the tunnel ahead of him was immense.

To prevent himself from gagging, he let out a harsh cough. He blinked as his eyes began to water. _I better find something quickly..._ He grabbed the protruding rocks from the wall for stability as he walked into a large room. _Or I'll be joining whatever it is down here-_

Suddenly, his feet lost ground. Letting out a gasp of surprise, his back hit the mud with surprising force. Jet waited patiently by it's master. After a minute of no movement, it sprayed it's master with water. It did the trick. Now sputtering, his trainer clawed at the air, forcing himself to sit up.

"Thanks." He spat, pushing his Starmie away from him. He held his hand out, expecting it to bounce playfully back, but instead it dropped from the air and stood on the wet ground he slipped on. His eyes following it's movements, he saw why he slipped. As nasty as the air was, he still managed to cough out words-

"What the hell...?"

Where Jet had sprayed water, it was just muddy earth and wet pebbles. Everywhere else however, was covered thickly with dark blood. Everywhere meaning there were either numerous bodies or one large one. Thickly meaning whatever bled has done long enough ago for it to dry into a gelatinous state.

He stood up immediately.

"Spray me again, Jet." He ordered, voice trembling. Closing his eyes, relief washed over him as Jet did another water gun. _The last thing I need is to get infected with some unknown disease..._

He then sent his Starmie to spray a path for him. In some areas, the blood was just a thin casing on the floor. Others centimeters thick. There was even one section of the large chamber where the blood was still liquid. The trainer hoped that was because it was a cave lake, and not the remains of something bleeding over hundreds of gallons of blood.

Why was there so much blood? It was a cave, large beasts such as Mamoswine would die in days. What would bleed to this degree? Was it poachers? The desire to leave has gotten very strong, but so has the curiosity of finding out the mystery. And the desire to find something valuable. If the cause of this was poachers, it would be highly unlikely to find anything good. But if it was a inexperienced, arrogant trainer decided to fight some of the creatures in here with an Onix. The trainer was leaning more in that direction, seeing fresh tears in the walls and ground-

It was getting really hard to breathe.

He wiped the strained tears from his eyes and tightened his bandana when he caught something moving from the corner of his eye. It did not make a sound. Or at least, a sound his ears could register. "Jet!" He hissed, pointing to his right before coughing again. The stench had to be thicker than the blood surrounding him. He told himself that at this rate, he only had ten minutes left. Ten minutes, and then he's out of here. Prize or not.

Jet slowly rose above his trainer's head and aimed his light into the darkness. Slowly, it must not be a threat. Small, pale things fluttered away as the right light scanned from the ground up. They buried themselves in the dirt and blood, hiding behind boulders, stalagmites and bones and rotting blue flesh-

Wait.

The trainer rubbed at his eyes fiercely to clear them of tears again. Holding back another cough, he took a step forward. What laid before him, the cause of this hard, hideous smell, was a Dragonair. It's mouth gaping open, with the short pale snakes fluttering in and out of it. Upon closer examination, the trainer noticed that they had had light blue markings.

Dunsparce.

_I guess this is where the food chain goes full circle._ The trainer thought. Seeing no danger, he walked over to it's face. A broken left canine. Other left teeth chipped... It seemed the whole left side of it's face had been ground into a cave wall. Blue skin and white blubber removed showing ripped, deep purplish, red muscle. Looking up to it's horn, the trainer mentally measures the horn to it's muzzle and throat jewel.

The horn is longer than the muzzle. It's a female.

The jewel is shrunken. There are young nearby. The trainer frowned, they are most likely dead. Their value on the market drops immensely just on that fact alone.

Seeing no need to rush anymore, he took to scanning the rest of the body. Walking past the head, he saw the most likely cause of her death. The spine, right where it connects into the skull, was heavily exposed. Cut and cracked, it might also have been snapped. But the trainer could not tell from where he stood. And considering the layout of the area, the only way he could see it closer would to climb over the Dragonair. The trainer couldn't bring himself to do that, especially since the majority of the hide was in such good condition. The Dunsparce do not have any teeth and have weak jaws. Therefore not only could they not chew into a Dragonair's hide, but won't even be able to feed onto the flesh until time had weaken it into a mushy liquid. Such facts do not deter a Dunsparce. Every orifice is used as an entryway. Every deep cut, which were not many- were filled with the blue stripped critters struggling to find something completely rotten.

Aside from all of this, the rest of it's hide was undamaged. Along with the few undamaged teeth, throat and tail jewels, horn and the right eye-

What a prize.

Under the bandana, the trainer bit his lip. This was a prize too heavy and too dangerous to take as a whole. He couldn't take it in a Pokéball, as they are designed to only capture the living. No pulse is no good. He couldn't skin her either. His knife was no diamond blade, and the only Pokémon he had with him that knew cut was not a clean cutter, which would mean more money down the drain. And then there would be the trouble of carrying it out...

Pulling out surgical gloves from a small bag inside his backpack, the trainer pulled three different sets over his hands. Taking his knife from his boot, he set to work on what he could carry. He summoned Roll from her Pokéball, ordering her to break off the end of the tail jewels while he worked on the face. Jet continued to hover above, it's red light never dulling.

He couldn't smell anymore by the time he had removed the throat jewel. Pulling out a garbage bag, he carefully laid the clear blue crystallized skin inside before tying the top off as tightly as he could. Since he completely ignored the Dunsparce, they no longer felt threatened by his presents and his similar smelling Pokémon and joyfully wriggled around his legs, sucking up all of the freshly spilled blood from the new wound and what splattered onto his pants.

At least he would be clean. Even if he would feel anything but.

_One Dragonair couldn't have spilled all of this blood._

Just as he was thinking those words, his light moved. His next project, the eye, now disappeared into the blackness, which was almost as thick as the atmosphere.

"Hey, Jet. I was working here." The trainer croaks. He is surprised to hear what he sounds like, had the air been eating his throat while he was working? Before he could attempt to protest more, Roll let out a rumble of warning. The trainer turns his head, his eyes searching for the light. As they adjusted, he walked towards Jet. Making sure Roll wasn't too far behind him.

_Another light?_ He sees ahead. It's small and it flickers wildly._ Could it be a reflection of Jet's light?_

Nothing came to mind to what would naturally reflect in a cave, so the trainer immediately assumes the worst- another trainer or authority. He quickly strips the gloves off of his hands, tossing them to the Dunsparce. His eyes more than likely red with the constant rubbing, he did so once more to clear his vision from tears. Lastly placing his knife back in his boot's inside pocket.

_There, as presentable as one of my sort can be. _He smirks, hopping over the bigger blood puddles.

At that distance, he can tell it is a fire.

Yards later, with Jet hovering above, he sees three creatures lying close to each other. Two were small, one on the left being an large lizard- a Charmeleon (most likely the owner of the tracks he was following earlier). It's heavily bruised skin turned what should have been a proud, desert orange, to a dull amber. Every cut contrasted strongly against it's frail body. And finally, one of it's right arm had snapped. Only handing on because of well toned muscle and skin. The trainer frowned, as stoic as he could be, it gave him an odd feeling to see such a proud creature looking so lost.

The creature in the middle, he could not recognize. All he could tell was that it had two arms and a long tail. He almost didn't catch the third. It being a rock Pokémon, it completely camouflaged with the blood-splattered stalagmite. If it were not for it's harbored breathing the trainer would've not even noticed it's existence.

"Hello?" He coughed.

No response. He had a hunch, but only when he was about arms length away, he understood.

The middle Pokémon he could not recognize was because it was not a Pokémon at all. What laid between the Charmeleon and the rock Pokémon was... human at one point. What he thought was a long tail was a single leg. The right seemed to have been snapped and ripped off at some point. More than likely lingering in the Dragonair's stomache. The trainer had no idea what the person rotting in front of him was like. He couldn't even identify what gender the person used to be. But whoever this person was, meant a lot to the two Pokémon guarding it. Caked in dried blood and decaying freely, the trainer could see that no Dunsparce as been allowed near the body.

In an attempt as getting a closer look at what was left of the right leg, he noticed the two Pokéballs lying in the dead trainer's lose hand. As he reached for them, he noticed the strange pattern on the floor. Turning his head, he read:

"_...pleas giv 2 my sis..."_

The trainer swallowed the bile that rose in his throat and sneered. "Yea, right." He coughed as he picked up the two balls on the floor. He comes to places like these to claim things people have forgotten. The teen must have been delusional to think anyone -aside from people like himself- would come to places like these regularly, and the chances to even walk into this chamber! He hadn't identified the rock Pokémon yet, but the Charmeleon was a definite prize. And it can go into a ball! As if he would do such a silly thing like take these Pokemon to a girl who more than likely wouldn't pay him a great a thanks like those in the market!

The trainer could almost laugh, but instead started choking. This wasn't air anymore, this rotting gaseous stench was turning this place into a poisonous miasma. He dropped the balls to the floor as Jet suddenly shot another water gun on top of him. Also removing the bloody message in the dirt. He too fell shortly after the balls, landing on his hands. The cold water turning into something like a massage, it eased his coughs.

The sudden water gun woke the two weary animals in front of him. The Charmeleon gave a barely audible hiss, pulling it's small burning tail closer to itself. The rock Pokémon however, rose back onto it's hind legs. Identifying itself as a Rhydon. The sound that protruded from it's throat, was of grinding rocks. What else to expect from a rock Pokémon? It gave it's best glare with it's single eye. The other one had stopped bleeding due to unnatural blood clotting of earth and rock.

It was not as rare as it's partner, but can still be valuable if you find the right buyer.

The trainer did not have to worry about his safety for even a minute. Roll was right behind watching the entire time. She leapt forward to the Rhydon, nearly stepping on her trainer's hand and crushing it. The impact shook the ground, scaring all of the previously happy Dunsparce back to their hiding places. The Rhydon, seeing the spunky, fully healthy Graveler ready to fight, sat back down in defeat.

_Excellent._

The trainer pushed himself off of the floor and picked the Pokéballs off of the floor again. This time however, he noticed strange markings on them. A little more staring and the trainer realized they were words. One had the word 'Howl' written on it, the other-

_Roll?_

"Which one of you is Roll?" He whispered, narrowing his eyes at the two Pokémon. The Charmeleon weakly rose it's head and looked over.

_This Pokémon, has the same name as my Graveler... _He swallowed. It stung. The constant coughing was making his throat raw.

It shouldn't have been too surprising to him, Roll was a familiar name for a Pokémon as John or Crystal was for a human. But Roll wasn't a common name for a Charmeleon like how Lacey was for a boy. Roll is a name you gave to a round like Pokémon like Marill or to Pokémon who knew attacks like Rollout, like Donphan. He himself was not much into nicknames, but it felt redundant to call your Pokémon by it's species' name. It would be like every human being named human. Honestly, he had given his Graveler that name because it was the best thing he could think of at the time. He wasn't creative. And after spending months and months training her, the name stuck. She couldn't be anything else.

He wouldn't ask it of her.

Blinking away more tears, he found himself staring at the Charmeleon that he just moments before was planning on selling to one of the many people he had on his list.

"Come here." He beckoned it over with his hand.

The Charmeleon did not move. It only continued to stare.

The trainer smiled. Such loyalty.

"Good girl..." He cooed, crouching down to the Charmeleon's level. "...or boy? Never owned one of your kind. Can't say I'd recognize you even on a good day." Outstretching a hand, he heard his own Roll give a noise of discontent. The other Roll curled a lip, but as the trainer reached forward it bowed it's head. Allowing the trainer to carefully stroke the head and crown before pressing it's Pokéball's button on it's nose, warping it's matter from the space in front of him into the ball. Then, he pocketed it.

Turning to the Rhydon, most likely 'Howl'. He held up it's ball.

"Common, there's nothing left for you here." He croaked. With it's one eye, it only continued to stare.

And with that, the trainer tossed the ball at it. As it disappeared into a flash of bright light- temporarily blinding the man for a moment- the ball returned to the hand it was imprinted with. The trainer groaned, he was getting sick of picking things out of that dead hand. But he bent over, all the same to pick it up. Then went to stripping the corpse of anything else of value.

The corpse had five empty balls and one other Pokémon with him. The trainer wasn't going to bother figuring out what it was right now. A bunch of empty potions, ethers and destroyed food. He tossed them from the backpack. One food container still looked good, so he peeked inside.

Celery.

The trainer made a face before tossing that as well to the Dunsparce. Really now? He checked the quality of the sleeping-bag before laying it down next to the corpse. "Roll, use dig." He pointed to the wall in front of him. The Graveler moved forward to the wall and shoved her hands into the rock, breaking it down. As she did so- the trainer slipped the corpse into the sleeping bag.

"Bury this." He rolled it in her direction. It being an awkward shape, did not roll very far. As Roll picked up the bag with one of her large arms, her trainer motioned the Starmie back to the Dragonair. Now sporting two backpacks, he could now carry more. He wouldn't have to worry about accidentally squishing the eye.

He had no idea how much longer he stayed in that cave. His cheap watch broke when he hit the floor before. However long it was, it was long enough that he could bump into the Dunsparce and they would not think a thing of it. When he removed what he could from the Dragonair, having Roll break off the horn with some skull attached to it. He had Jet wash part of the floor before lying upon it.

Eventually the Dunsparce came to suck off the blood from his clothes and skin. There were no colour differences between them. No 'shiny' amongst them. The younger ones were smaller and had a cleaner look to them, but nothing special.

He felt like taking one.

But why? Dunsparce were useless in a fight and were incredibly shy. They were rare, but they were hard to sell. The only buyers would be rich pacifists who wouldn't mind keeping something that needed darkness and could only eat rotten things. A finicky house pet.

Useless.

But the trainer found himself stroking their soft shells as they fluttered over him. Maybe he wasn't thinking clearly. Maybe the putrid air was destroying his train of thought. He rolled his sore eyes. If he changes his mind, he'll release it.

But it's still a waste of a ball.

Looking amongst the Dunsparce, he tried picking out one that was different. Either it be a scar or possibly personality. But other than age, nothing was sticking out.

So he picked the youngest one.

Ordering Jet to use Hypnosis, all other Dunsparce squeaked in horror and ran away. Tossing one of the dead trainer's balls he caught it in one go.

Useless.

It made for an extra irritating decision as the ball flew past him and tried to return to the correct owner's hand. That trainer, now below ground would not receive it. The trainer had Roll return it to him before returning her to her ball.

"Let's get out of here." He said to the only person left, Jet.

The trip back felt slower than the trip in. But being burdened with only goods, the trainer could not imagine why.

There was no light at the end of the tunnel. What could have been morning upon entering the cave, was now night. Trees by the entrance blocked any starlight, but the trainer found himself not caring. As he returned Jet to it's Pokéball, he found himself thinking-

This mountain air, has never tasted sweeter.


End file.
